Lonely Boy: Once-ler's Memories
by bloodrosered
Summary: We explore the Once-ler's childhood memories. T for coarse language and some scenes of child abuse.
1. Prologue

It was the morning that Once-ler's family would be coming to the Truffula forest, he blinked his eyes as soon as the first break of daylight peered into his window. He yawned and stretched, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, still in his bunny pajamas. Goosebumps formed on his skin as the cool air kissed his exposed skin as he got dressed his usual grey attire, his black hair tousled from the night before. He gathered up the laundry in his hamper and went to the wash basin to fill it up, cleaning his clothes and hung it on the line. After a delicious pancake breakfast, he went right to cleaning his cottage.

Fiora happened to be walking past his cottage, hearing Once-ler's ever so cheerful humming from inside. She peeked inside and saw he was cleaning...he often did that.

"Good morning, Oncie," said a silvery voice from the window.

The young man turned to find the forest sprite looking in. He lit up when he saw her green face smiling.

"Oh, good morning, Fiora!" he said cheerfully. "Just cleaning my house...you know, my family is coming today."

"Can I help?" she asks.

Once-ler was absolutely delighted and nodded.

While helping him clean his cottage, Fiora wondered what his life was like before he came to the Truffula forest. About his family. She had seen pictures of them and he mentioned them in passing, but he was reluctant to talk about them OR he was a bit dismissive about a few things he mentioned in his past, claiming it was normal. Fiora didn't see anything normal with that: why would humans be so cruel to their own kind?

Yet the question always remained: why did he never talk about his family?

She saw hidden pain behind Once-ler's eyes, how lonely and desperate the young man was...desperate to be loved and appreciated. He always felt very uncomfortable with himself, whether it was knitting or cooking mostly...even when he wore his frilly pink apron. Fiora didn't see anything wrong with him. She wondered why humans would think such things about each other. Once-ler told her that humans believed that there were things that were socially acceptable; anything that was not was considered strange and unusual.

Of course, even though Fiora had no exposure to humans, she understood that there were things that made Once-ler uncomfortable. She felt it would be best to let it go and not bring it up again. After all, Fiora wasn't too fond of unpleasant things. She liked happy things the best. She liked it when he was happy: his entire person would light up, his face would stretch into a wide natural smile, and his eyes would sparkle, becoming bluer than ever. When he spent his days in the Truffula forest, the young man became more comfortable around her.

Though he was glad his family was coming to help him, there was still that lingering feeling of his memories from the past. So many things he didn't want to tell Fiora about...too painful to share with her...anyone...

* * *

**AN: If you don't know who Fiora is, please refer to "Nature Girl". Please pardon construction there. Heavy editing going on.**


	2. Cry, Cry, Cry

_You're gonna cry, cry, cry and you'll cry alone,  
When everyone's forgotten and you're left on your own.  
You're gonna cry, cry, cry._

_You're gonna cry, cry, cry and you'll want me there,__  
It'll hurt when you think of the fool you've been._  
_You're gonna cry, cry, cry _-Johnny Cash

Once-ler loved his Daddy. He loved him. He treasured nothing else more than his son. Once-ler was only five when Daddy died. He left him two things: his guitar and grey fedora.

The happiest memories Once-ler had were with his Daddy. He was a musician. Even as a baby, he loved being with his Daddy. Whenever he woke in the middle of the night, Daddy would scoop him up out of the bassinet and coo softly, bouncing him. He always felt soothed when Daddy held him. Daddy would feed him and stay up late to make sure he got back to sleep. Once he fed baby Once-ler, he'd place him back in the bassinet and pick up his guitar and sing to him, plucking and strumming the strings. He'd fall right back to sleep. Sometimes Daddy would fall asleep with his infant son, cuddling with him.

Of course, Once-ler loved his Momma, Isabella. She hardly held him...only when Daddy wasn't home, then once he walked in the door after work, she handed him off to him. She was too exhausted from taking care of the rambunctious four-year-old twins who demanded her constant attention.

Even Daddy loved Brett and Chet, though they were not his, he did like they were his own. Isabella was a teenager when she got pregnant with the twins. The twins' Daddy was rich and disappeared the day she told him the news, leaving Isabella broke and alone.

Daddy often went off to do music gigs at night. Five-year-old Once-ler really wanted to go. Momma said it was fine as long as he got home for bed and that he listened to Daddy. Once-ler promised to be a good boy.

Daddy took his son to in town to an open mic night; his guitar in hand, he told Once-ler to sit in one spot and stay there. Don't talk to strangers. If you get hungry or thirsty, just order something and Daddy would pay for it. Once-ler was always a good boy.

The small boy sat and watched his Daddy play some tunes by Johnny Cash, especially _Ring of Fire, __Cry, Cry, Cry, Walk the Line. _He did a few by Elvis and various rock folk artists. The response often was a small mingle of applause, some people tossed money in his open guitar case...most of them shook their heads or rolled their eyes, saying he was just another big dreamer trying to make it. Once-ler always clapped the loudest for his Daddy.

When Daddy was done with his performance, he sat down next to Once-ler.

"Daddy, that was the best!" he said with a huge smile on his face. "You're the best musician of all!"

Daddy would smile as he heard him say that. He may not be the best to others, but hearing it from his son always made him happy to know someone appreciated his talent.

"Daddy," said Once-ler. "Will you teach me guitar? Please!"

His Daddy ruffled the messy mop of black hair, looking into those blue eyes and the smatter of freckles on his cheeks. Once-ler loved to learn new things...

"Sure, son," he said. "First thing in the morning. We gotta get home though. It's late. We promised your Momma we'd be home for your bedtime."

The boy lit up with the widest smile as he heard his Daddy's promise. He couldn't wait.

Once-ler had fallen asleep in the truck when they got home. He carried him inside and saw Isabella was waiting for him. He knew this wasn't good. He laid Once-ler in his bed and tucked him in, stroking his hair and kissed him good night and murmured that he loved him.

Then the arguing began. Once-ler bolted awake when he heard Momma and Daddy arguing. He grasped the sheets, frightened. It always seemed every time Daddy came home, they argued. He didn't know why they did. He wished they wouldn't since it was scary.

The yelling seemed to go on for hours. He heard the sound of glass shattering, which made Once-ler twitch. He buried his head under the pillow to drown out the noise, whimpering and let a few tears fall.

His nine-year-old twin brothers knocked at his door and they came in their pajamas, clutching their stuffed animals. They were scared too. They huddled together, crying...they hoped it would stop soon.

* * *

Of course by morning, Daddy kept his promise with the guitar lesson. He sat the small boy in his lap, showing him how to hold the guitar. He taught him simple chords, guiding his small fingers on the neck and strings and showed him how to strum. Once-ler did whine a bit that it was hard.

"Don't worry," said Daddy. "You'll get better. I want you to practice all the time."

"I promise," he said.

Daddy made him a small toy guitar so he could practice on it. He said he'd get to play Daddy's guitar once he was older and got better at playing.

"Daddy, how come Momma isn't happy with you playing music?" asked Once-ler.

Daddy looked sad. "I have dreams, son. Dreams I hope I will make you and your Momma happy. But she...she wants more, I guess. I'm trying the best I can."

"I think you're the best. You always make me happy."

Daddy smiled painfully as he felt his heartstrings being tugged as he heard those words from the small boy. The words that meant everything to him.

"Well, if you ever have dreams, Once, I want you to hold onto them. Don't let anyone say you're a failure. Follow your dreams, even if everyone says you can't."

"I will, Daddy," said the boy.

"Are you kidding?!" scoffed Isabella with an eyeroll. "You're teaching him guitar?"

"Bells," said Daddy. "C'mon. He asked me. This is a good skill."

"Yea...for a loser who can't make it big."

Daddy sighed, looking embarrassed. He told Once-ler to go practice while Momma and Daddy talked. The boy nodded, grabbing up his toy guitar, hearing them argue again.

"Dammit, I said I'm trying!"

"Not hard enough."

Once-ler shut out their shouts and focused on his practicing. Then he heard a car engine start up and he ran to see Daddy was leaving. The shock hit him and tears streamed down his face.

"DADDY!" screamed Once-ler, running after the departing truck; the dust kicking up. "COME BACK!"

Many hours later, Once-ler sat on the porch, waiting for Daddy to come back. It seemed like the longest time. He only went inside when Momma called him in for meals. But other than that, he wouldn't move.

Soon it was dark...Once-ler was still sitting there, watching the road, hoping Daddy would come back. As soon as he saw the headlights split the night, he lit up. There was Daddy. Once-ler's heart pounded as fast as a hummingbird's wings as he ran and jumped up into Daddy's arms, crying.

"Daddy!" he sobbed. "Don't ever leave!"

Daddy hugged the boy, feeling his tears and the heavy hot breath on his neck as he cried, arms and legs wrapped tightly around him, trembling. He cupped his head, running his fingers through his son's thick locks of hair. He felt his own tears coming as he held his greatest treasure. Nothing else mattered but that small boy he held in his arms.

"I ain't leaving," he said. "I'd never leave you, Once. If I do, just remember that I'll always come back...for you."

"Promise?" said Once-ler, tears in his big blue eyes, which Daddy wiped away.

Though Daddy hated to tell the boy that being with his Momma had become unbearable, he couldn't leave him.

"Promise," Daddy said, cupping his face.

Another tight hug from Once-ler. He pressed his cheek on Once-ler's wet one. He silently promised to God and himself that if he truly left Isabella, he'd take Once-ler with him. God help him if he broke that promise. He couldn't live with himself nor without this rare and wonderful gift he had.

* * *

Daddy often left for several hours and then he came back. It would be late at night. Sometimes in the daytime. Sometimes he left at night after he and Momma got into a fight. Momma always screamed at him for being a loser and not making enough money while Daddy said he was trying, but Momma was spending it too much. When Daddy left, Once-ler would sit on the front porch and wait for Daddy to come home...even late at night until Momma screeched at him to get inside to bed. He would reluctantly obey and always fell asleep waiting up for Daddy.

One day when Daddy left, something was different. It was a grey cloudy day. When he woke up, he found Daddy's guitar and his grey fedora in his room. Once-ler thought this was strange. He never left with either of those. He went out on the porch as usual, hugging his knees and his blue eyes darted towards the path where he often saw his Daddy come up every day. He played with the hole in his hand-me-down pants, which were too big, exposing the scabbed, bruised knee that he got from rough play with his nine-year-old brothers, Brett and Chet.

It was now dark. Daddy still hadn't come home. Where was he? Did he forget his promise? Once-ler shivered a bit as it got cold and darker. Yet he still kept his eyes on that fence and the path.

"Oncie!" said his Momma. "Come inside. Why are you sitting out there, you dumb boy?"

"I'm waiting for Daddy to come home," he said. "He always does."

"Daddy isn't coming home," she replied. "Just get your skinny little butt inside."

"But why? He promised!"

"He's dead," said Momma bluntly.

The shock of it took a while to settle in as the five-year-old heard what his Momma said. His blue eyes went round and he stared blankly. He was confused. But...he had just only talked to him yesterday. Tears flooded those blue eyes. His lower lip quivered as he began to cry.

His Daddy was dead.

Momma just stared with no emotion as she looked at the skinny little shit that looked like the man who she once loved...and left for good. She hated him. Yes, he was dead...to her. He was gonna come back and take Oncie, but she warned him the next time he left, he wouldn't be allowed to come back...and don't even think about taking their son. The court would always side with her since she was the mother.

"Just...tell Once to be a good boy," Daddy said to her defeated. "And I love him."

She just slammed the phone down. Then went out to drag that little shit inside. There was the spitting image of the man who left her: he small boy with tousled dark hair, big wet blue eyes, his round speckled cheeks, dressed in hand-me-down clothes that hung off his skinny frame.

Little shit. Just like his Daddy. She hated the boy even more.

"Get inside, Oncie," she said.

"No!" he said petulant.

"Oncie, you get in this house...right...now!" she hissed, grabbing his skinny arm and dragged him towards the door.

"I DON'T WANNA!" he yelled, digging his heels in the porch.

Momma's cheeks flushed angry as the impudent little boy spoke to her that way.

"Don't you EVER speak to me like that, mister!" she snarled. "I will paint your back porch red! Now get inside!"

"NO!"

She yanked his oversized pants down, exposing his bottom to the cold night air and swatted him harshly. Once-ler screamed in pain; there was a HUGE red handprint left on the soft flesh. Momma tried to drag the boy inside, but he continued to resist. The swats and screams continued until Once-ler's bottom became sore and angry red and Isabella grew tired of dealing with the stubborn, petulant boy.

"Fine!" she spat, pulling his pants back up. "Stay out here and freeze, you good-for-nothing!"

She slammed the door. When he heard the door click, the shock of the realization of being left outside all alone hit him. He turned the handle, finding it was locked. Desperate and frightened, he pounded and rattled on the door.

"Momma!" Once-ler screamed. "Momma, lemme in!"

"Good for you, Bells," said Aunt Grizelda with a smile. "Teach the boy a lesson so he'll remember never to disrespect you."

The twins heard little Once-ler screaming and poked their heads to see. They were confused.

"Momma," asked Brett. "Why is Once-ler outside?"

"He's being punished," said Isabella.

"What did he do?" asked Chet.

"He was fresh and disobeyed his Momma. That's what'll happen to you if you do the same. Now get back to bed."

The twins flinched and went back upstairs to their room. They didn't want to be punished. Uncle Ubb heard the boy's screams and went to open the door.

"Don't you dare!" hissed Isabella. "He needs to learn a lesson."

"But..." Ubb protested. "Bells, it's getting cold. I think he's learned it. Just let him in."

"Shut up!" growled Grizelda. "If you so much as touch that door, you'll wish you never set foot in this house."

Ubb lowered his head, defeated. It was two against one and there was nothing he could do. He heard his nephew's screams turned to pleading sobs and slowly walked away from the door.

"Momma, please! I'm sorry! Lemme in! Pleeease!"

Once-ler fell to his knees, pounded until his fists hurt and his voice was hoarse, fat tears rolled down his cheeks. He gave up, whimpering and he hugged himself to keep warm. He shivered as he was all alone outside in the cold and dark with a sore bottom.

He knew where the barn was and darted as fast as he could, frightened of the dark. He got comfortable in the nearest haystack, nestling in the scratchy straw. He was much warmer now. The sounds of animals that resided in the barn soothed him a bit. At least he wasn't all alone. He grabbed an armful of hay and hugged it tight. He let the last of his tears fall as he mourned for his Daddy. The man who really loved him was gone forever.

* * *

**AN: I don't own Johnny Cash nor his songs here mentioned. I bow to the late Mr. Cash for his creativity**


	3. Gonna Cut You Down

_**AN: many thanx and shoutout to PerrythePlatypusGirl for inspirado on her drawing 'Haircuts'**_

* * *

_Sooner or later, God's gonna cut you down -Johnny Cash_

The rooster crowed outside...the ten-year-old skinny boy blinked his eyes. Though it was barely dawn, he knew what he had to do. The rest of the family wasn't going to do it. He stretched and yawned, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, scratching his mop of black hair. He quietly tiptoed down the stairs, put away the dinner dishes from last night from the drying rack. He got used to getting up early in the morning to cook and clean for his family. He liked being up before everyone else, enjoying the solitude and silence. Sometimes he would watch the sunrise on the porch.

After Daddy died, life got worse for Once-ler. Momma did whatever she could to crush the young boy's spirit...encouraging the other family members to do so. He was often ignored, abused and humiliated. He was excluded from everything and punished for no reason. He even became the family scapegoat.

Yet despite the mistreatment of his family, the boy remained ever optimistic and kind.

As Once-ler got older, the house was in disrepair and messy since no one cared to take care of it. Once-ler became a slave in his own home: cooking, cleaning, whatever work he could on the farm. He read about how to fix stuff since the farm had fallen in such a state.

His family was poor. They lived on welfare and often had second-hand clothes. Yet, he found it quite interesting that Momma often bought herself something trendy or she did something with her hair and nails. There was one time she went out and came back with a red fox stole on her neck. He and his brothers went hungry; mostly him. He wondered why she got to have new stuff, but the boys got second-hand things. He figured it was best not to ask.

He grabbed one of his mother's aprons, tying it around his skinny waist. He pulled out the ingredients to make pancakes, stirring them. Then he heated up the stove. He plopped a pat of butter into the pan, swishing it around to get it nice and slick so the pancakes wouldn't stick. He poured the batter into the pan and made a stack of pancakes. The smell was so tempting...it made his stomach twist into knots. He had gone to bed hungry last night after a long day of cooking and cleaning. It was often that he went hungry and he got so skinny.

Brett and Chet came running downstairs; two fourteen-year-old burly boys. They shoved past Once-ler, grabbing the plate of pancakes, gobbling it up like pigs. They ate so sloppily, getting crumbs, maple syrup and butter all over the place. Once-ler tried reaching for some, only to be punched in the ribs by Chet; he groaned and doubled over, clutching the bruised spot.

"Mine!" they said.

"You need to save some for everyone else," Once-ler protested. "Momma's not gonna like it if there's no food for her."

"Tough," said Brett.

"C'mon, fellas! I'm hungry too." he whined.

The twins smirked mischieviously as they got an idea to torment their younger brother.

"Y'wanna eat?" said Chet.

"Order up!" laughed Brett. "Today's special: floor pancakes."

"No!" Once-ler exclaimed as he watched in horror as the food was dumped on the floor, pancakes and maple syrup and all!

Once-ler fell on his knees and frantically picked it up. No way he could allow Momma to eat food that was on the floor. It was unacceptable. He didn't know whether to throw it away or eat it. It seemed a waste to throw it away...and he was starving.

Taking a deep breath, he ate the floor pancakes. Chet and Brett made barking sounds, laughing hysterically; Once-ler knew that was their way of calling him a dog. He ignored them. It was better to eat off the floor than go hungry. There were times that he was so hungry that he would lick the remains off the plates or find some food on top of the trash to eat...it was shameful but he did it anyway.

Sighing, he got up and grabbed a rag to wipe up the sticky mess on the floor with some soap and water. Now he had to figure out what to feed everyone else. Brett and Chet left nothing...and ruined the rest of the pancakes, which he had forced himself to eat for their amusement.

_Well, at least I got to eat. No digging in the trash today. _Once-ler thought, trying to see the bright side.

With a shrug, he got up and dusted himself off, then went to get the pancake ingredients to make another batch. Maybe Momma would hate the pancakes he made for his brothers. He would make hers perfect. As long as his Momma was happy, that's all that mattered. She was difficult to please, but he was willing to do better for her sake. After all, his Daddy told him to respect and love his Momma. Yet, Once-ler wondered if she did love him at all. She always told him that he was a bitter disappointment.

But nonetheless, he was willing to not to disappoint her and make her happy. He would love her and cherish her like any good son would.

He heard the shuffle of feet coming towards the kitchen. Momma and Aunt Grizelda, both had curlers in their hair and bathrobes and slippers. Uncle Ubb was shuffling behind them, scratching himself.

"WHERE'S BREAKFAST, ONCIE?!" screeched Isabella.

His heart pounding, Once-ler came out of the pantry with his arms full of pancake ingredients and coffee grinds.

"It's coming," he said. "Brett and Chet ate it all..."

"Then you should've told them to save some for us," she scolded.

"I...I tried, Momma," he fumbled, his fingers twitching.

"I have to say, Oncie," she said, shaking her head with a frown. "You disappoint me."

"I'm sorry, Momma," he said, lowering his head in shame.

Oncie: how he was so eager to please his Momma. How much he wanted her love and approval. And yet no matter how many times he tried, she cut him down. But he always got back up...with a positive attitude. Isabella had to admit she liked the boy's spirit...his determination to please. She tried to crush him, telling him he would amount to nothing...he was...

Nothing.

He made a new batch of pancakes for the rest of his family, covered in smears of flour. He tossed in some eggs and bacon after he made another stack of pancakes. His arms shaking as he carried the plates over and served the adults in his family. He poured the freshly made coffee and brought it over. He watched his Momma in hopes the breakfast he made would please her; his blue eyes round with anxious excitement.

"There's too much cinnamon and it tastes dry," she criticized. "Coffee is too bitter and hot. And the bacon has fat! I told you no fat EVER!"

"Dumb boy," sneered Aunt Grizelda.

"I'm sorry," said Once-ler; his spirit deflated when he heard this from his Momma. He failed her again.

"A better apology would be to not to mess up again, Oncie," said Isabella.

Once-ler nodded, his round cheeks were red with shame. "You're right, Momma. I won't mess up again."

While the family ate, he cleaned up. He felt tears, but brushed them away quickly. Momma said crying was unmanly. He had to be a man now that Daddy was gone.

When his family finished eating, they left the dirty plates behind: crumbs and sticky bits of maple syrup were left behind by his greedy family. There was not a scrap of food left for him. His belly growled. He was still hungry. Making sure no one was looking, he licked the plates clean in a frenzy.

After washing the dishes, he went into the pantry and dug out a secret stash of marshmallows that he hid in a place that nobody knew about. His hunger was satisfied...for now. He always felt better whenever he had marshmallows; it always put a smile on his face. He got to work cleaning the house.

Once-ler had spent the entire day cleaning and cooking. He was exhausted: he was on his hands and knees, scrubbing the floor until it shined. His fingers were raw and his knees were sore, his body was stiff from staying the same position all day. He dusted, swept the porch, cleaned the windows, vacuumed the soft chairs and rugs. He was ever glad it was bedtime because that meant stories!

Bedtime stories were Once-ler's favorite time. Daddy used to read to him and his brothers. Now Momma read them...with reluctance. Once-ler would put on his pajamas and brush his teeth. Brett and Chet never did. Their teeth were rotting, jagged and broken. He wanted to hear a bedtime story along with Brett and Chet. He was never included. Maybe this time would be different. He always kept a positive attitude.

Momma came in with a sour expression, holding a book to read to the boys. She hated this, but only if it would get them to sleep. Lord knows she hadn't had a decent moment to herself since she got pregnant with the twins when she was a teenager. She was still bitter from the two men who left her: the twins' rich daddy who lied to her about supporting her babies, then disappeared. Her parents turned their backs on her, refusing to take her in.

"You made your bed, Bella," they said. "Now lie in it."

Only a teenager, pregnant with twins, homeless and penniless...and that's the kindness she got from her family: a door slammed in the face. She moved in with her sister, Grizelda and her husband Ubb. After their birth, she endured two nightmares: it was twice the food, diapers, laundry, mess and sleepless nights of endless screaming. Her beauty faded from being poor and exhausted from parenthood.

When Oncie was born, he was an easy baby. Plus his Daddy was more than willing to take care of him while she slept. Oncie's Daddy loved the twins and they called him Daddy since they knew no other. She could care less. They already ruined her life and her body. And now he left. He wanted only his son. Nothing else. No! Isabella wanted to punish the man she once loved for leaving her by keeping the one thing he cherished.

Often times there were letters and phone calls from him, wanting to talk to Oncie. She sent back all the letters and hung up when he called. After a while, it stopped. He gave up...just like the loser he was. Good riddance!

The boys were in their pajamas, ready for bed. There was the worthless little beatnik dressed in hand-me-down pajamas, hugging his knees as he sat with the twins. Just seeing him disgusted her and thought of ways to exclude him. She sometimes involved her older sons to go along with it.

"Oncie, go brush your teeth," she said.

"Already did, Momma," he said, smiling to show her.

Of course. The little shit was such an ass-kisser. A good boy. How much he wanted to please her.

"No, you didn't. I can still see they're dirty."

"But..." he protested.

"Did you just say 'but'?" she seethed. "No story until you brush those teeth."

The boy flinched a little, scared. "O-OK, Momma."

Once-ler went back to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He really wanted to hear the story tonight. He remembered what his Daddy told him: b_e a good boy and listen to your Momma._

Soon as he finished, Momma was already reading. He was a bit disappointed that he missed some of the story; he remained positive and hoped to hear the rest. Momma stopped reading as soon as she saw his round face. Even the twins were quiet.

"I brushed my teeth, Momma!" he said with a proud smile. "Just like you asked. Now can I hear the story?"

"He's lying," said Chet as if on cue.

Once-ler's face fell in shock. He looked very confused.

"What? No!" Once-ler insisted. "I swear I did!"

"What did I tell you about lying, Oncie?" said Isabella.

"That it's bad," he said, his fingers twitching.

"And what happens when we lie in this house?"

Once-ler gulped, trembling. "We get punished," he replied.

Once-ler never told a lie in his life. Even if he did, he wasn't good at it either. He lied only once when he was eight. When Momma asked him if he ate all the cookies out of the jar. He didn't want to admit that he did because he was starving, so he denied it. Momma knew he was lying and punished him by having him bend over the kitchen chair. She called his brothers in to witness this. She took out a belt and beat him with it right on his bare bottom. The sound of leather snapping and the painful stinging on his flesh made him whimper and tears flow. She did this until his backside was so sore and red that he could barely sit down. She told Brett and Chet that's what would happen if they ever told a lie. Once-ler never told another lie after that.

"But I didn't lie, Momma! I swear! I brushed my teeth. I'll show you my toothbrush..." Once-ler continued to insist.

"I don't wanna see it, Oncie," she said. "You lied! Brett said he saw you wet it under the faucet. Right?"

Brett knew it wasn't true. But seeing Momma's glare and bared teeth, he nodded slowly with wide eyes.

"I'm very disappointed in you, Oncie. For lying, you won't be hearing the story tonight."

"B-but Momma..." Once-ler argued weakly.

"No buts, Oncie! You're a filthy, worthless liar! Now, go to bed."

Once-ler lowered his head, his face flushed and his shoulders slumped. He wanted to cry, but Momma said boys were not allowed to. What Momma said went. It wasn't fair, but that's the way it was.

He was about to go to his room...but why should he miss another bedtime story? If you can't join 'em, find another way. Hugging his ratty teddy bear, he sat outside Brett and Chet's room, listening. He smiled to himself as he listened to tonight's story.

Every night, Once-ler would brush his teeth, wait until Momma went in Brett and Chet's room, then sit outside their room to listen. He memorized every story by heart. He heard stories of elves, fairies, knights who fought dragons, princes who climbed up long hair to rescue princesses in towers, and sprites, the magical beings that lived in the forests making things grow. He closed his eyes and imagined everything going on in the stories, smiling to himself. Momma read it in a monotonous voice. She made it boring. Once the story was over, Once-ler would move quickly to his room. Then Momma would kiss the twins goodnight. He never got a kiss goodnight. He would think positive and hope that he would, sitting up and waiting for one...but it never happened.

One night, Momma was no longer interested in reading bedtime stories. The twins looked at each other and went towards Once-ler's room, knocking. Their younger brother opened the door, seeing them standing there, holding the book. The twins may be older than him, but they had child-like minds. He wasn't going to be mean to them.

"OK," said Once-ler.

The twins smiled. Once-ler took over bedtime stories from then on...and told it with more feeling. It was exciting! He finally got to be a part of bedtime stories.

* * *

Once-ler's clothes were hand-me-downs from his brothers; they were three sizes too big and often they had holes: the shirts hung off him that he had to roll up the sleeves and fell off his thin shoulders. His ass hung out of the top of his pants and they kept falling off of him that he had to use a rope to keep them up. His shoes were second-hand, often full of holes or broken. Kids laughed at him and his brothers at school.

Aside from his clothes, he hated the haircuts he and his brothers had to get before school started. They couldn't afford to go to the barber so Momma had to do it. And she did a terrible job. He recalled the first time it happened.

"Boys!" Isabella called. "Get in here!"

The three boys went to the kitchen. He sat with his brothers. Momma set a chair in the middle of the room with a white towel.

"You all need haircuts," she said. "School is starting soon."

Once-ler frowned. First, the did the twins. He watched as they sat there stupidly. When they were done, they seemed happy with the job Momma did.

It was Once-ler's turn. He pouted as he slowly sat in the chair and Momma wrapped the white towel around his neck. Momma ran her fingers through the messy locks of his jet black hair. There was a metallic snip of scissors and jet black swirls tumbled to the ground.

"Gosh, Oncie!" groaned Momma. "Why does your hair have to be impossible?! Why couldn't you have nice thin hair like your brothers?"

Once-ler rolled his eyes. "I apologize for inheriting the genes from you," he replied sarcastically.

She smacked him on the back of the head. He let out a small cry of pain.

"OW!" he cried. "Great Jehoshaphat, Momma! That hurts!"

"I'll have none of your back-talk, Oncie," she responded harshly. "Now sit still!"

When she was finished, Once-ler looked in the mirror and saw his horrible haircut. It looked like it was done by a blind monkey. He was so ashamed of his appearance. He couldn't go to school like this. He would get laughed at...he had to deal with it with his big clothes and broken shoes.

He saw his Daddy's grey fedora and smiled to himself. No way he was going to show his new haircut. Though the hat was big on him, it was better than getting teased.

When the first day of school started, the three boys went out to the main road to wait for the bus. Once-ler hated and loved school. He hated that his classmates made his life a living hell, but he loved learning. The library became a second home to him. He liked to bury himself in books and read everything. Though the farm had fallen in disrepair, he wanted to fix it up. He learned about how to use tools, how to fix things...his favorite was understanding the mechanics of machines and inventions. He was very smart in his class. He tried not to be a teacher's pet otherwise he'd get teased. Common names for him: string bean, goody two-shoes, Mr. Know-it-all, beanpole, farm boy...plumber (due to his pants being too big and his ass often hanging out of it).

He slowly entered the classroom, seeing kids milling around. As soon as the big-clothed, quiet farm boy came in, they stared for a moment and whispered and pointed at him, stifled giggles. Once-ler ignored them and sat quietly at his desk. He opened his book...then the teacher came in and everyone was quiet, sitting at their desks. She greeted them and everyone repeated the greeting back to the teacher. Then it was roll-call...until she reached Once-ler's name, eyeing the small boy with an oversized grey fedora.

"Mr. Once-ler," said the teacher. "You know you're not supposed to wear hats in class."

He sat there silently, looking up with his blue eyes, blushing. He was scared now. What was he supposed to do? He didn't want to disobey the teacher, but he didn't want to get teased either. He felt the eyes of his classmates boring into him as the teacher spoke to him.

"Please take off your hat, Mr. Once-ler."

The kids were snickering now, hands clapped behind mouths with razor sharp smiles. They had a feeling he was hiding something on account of his red cheeks and how he looked uncomfortable.

"Are you deaf?" the teacher said firmly. "I said take off your hat."

"No," he responded almost quiet but defiant.

The teacher shook her head, unsure if she heard what she thought he said. The snickering and whispers came to a halt. They stared with wide eyes.

"Excuse me?" the teacher said incredulous.

Once-ler flushed a deeper red, not speaking a word. He was surprised himself that he said this.

"Mr. Once-ler, take off your hat right now!"

"No!" he said more firmly.

There were gasps from the students, wide eyes and hisses of whispers as the goody two-shoes openly defied a teacher. The teacher was angry and surprised that this boy was acting so rebellious. Once-ler was usually a good boy, smart.

"Get up here right now, Mr. Once-ler!" barked the teacher.

There were now 'oohs' from his classmates. Once-ler frowned, stiffly got up and slunk towards the teacher's desk, burning from his ears to his neck. He felt ashamed that he did this, but then again, he didn't want anyone to see his horrible haircut. It always seemed like everyone was picking on him. It wasn't fair. He watched as the teacher picked up the chalk and began to write on the blackboard:

**I WILL NOT BE INSUBORDINATE**

"Do you know what that word means, Mr. Once-ler?" she asked, pointing to the last word.

He nodded, sucking in his lips, full of chagrin.

"Well, what does it mean?"

"Disobedient," he said flatly.

There were whispers of the usual names he was called. The teacher glared at the kids and they shut up.

"You will write this one hundred times, Mr. Once-ler," said the teacher, handing him the chalk. "Then you will stay during recess, clapping the erasers."

Once-ler turned to the blackboard and wrote those words that were broadcasted in front of the entire class. He wrote and erased until his arm was sore. During recess, the kids pointed and laughed at the punished Once-ler, who sneezed and clapped the erasers as they emitted clouds of dust; by the time he was finished, he was covered with white chalk dust. He would rather endure this humiliation than what he would've gone through if anyone had found out about his haircut.

He wore his Daddy's fedora to hide his haircut. After that, he decided no more haircuts. Once his hair grew back...he sort of took a liking to wearing his Daddy's hat. It made him feel closer to him. He might've been gone, but he always lived in his heart...smiling down on him from heaven.

* * *

**AN:**** Ik some of you are going to say that his Dad abandoned him. YES, he did. But Once-ler BELIEVES he's dead. **


	4. Blue Christmas

_**AN: Reader BEWARE. There are scenes involving child abuse and some minor ideologically sensitive material. I am writing this in equivalent in the time period of when thoughts were thought like that. Please forgive me if any offense is taken. I will be happy to change the content. **_

* * *

_And when those blue snowflakes start fallin'/That's when those blue memories start callin'/You'll be doin' alright with your Christmas of white/I'll have a blue, blue Christmas -Elvis Presley_

Once-ler wanted to learn more...and more. He was hungry for knowledge. He loved to read, learn and inventing things. He would come up with a ideas and draw it out. Nobody at home seemed interested in his inventions. When he tried to show his family his ideas for inventions, he was only met with an indifferent 'eh'.

While sitting on his bed, plucking at the strings of his Dad's guitar, he looked down at his baggy clothes, full of holes. He was tired of being cold in the winter season. His jacket was paper thin...along with his brothers. He had to tuck his hands in his pocket or under his arms and his head down to keep warm. His cheeks would be pink, shivering as the icy air would bite his flesh.

Would his Mom be willing to give him money to buy a new coat? He had a feeling she'd say no, but it wouldn't hurt to ask. He didn't want to end up with his brothers' hand-me-downs again. After coming home from school one cold fall day, he saw Mom reading a book and had a ball of yarn with knitting needles next to her chair. He quietly peered in and observed as she held two knitting needles and tried to learn to knit. She cursed several times as she messed up or knotted.

"This is impossible! Why did I even buy this book is beyond me!" she grumbled, flinging the needles and yarn aside.

Once-ler looked at his frustrated Mom, a bit nervous. He wrung his hands a bit...then took a deep breath and let go of his fear. His confidence boosted up after that.

"Mom?" he began.

"What?" Isabella said a bit annoyed by his presence.

"Um...I wanted to ask you for...er...some money."

Isabella narrowed her eyes. What was this boy up to? "Why?"

"I'd like to get a new coat for myself."

"What is wrong with the coat you already have?"

"I'm not complaining or anything, Mom," Once-ler explained. "It's just not warm enough and it has holes. I did see one in the store walking home from school and it's not expensive and I tried it on and it was perfect."

"Oncie, we can't afford new coats. You're just going to have to live with what you have."

Once-ler frowned when he heard this, sighing with disappointment. He figured she would say no. He really wanted that coat. It was grey like his dad's fedora. He would stare longingly at it in the window every day, shivering in the cold.

"Please, Mom. I'll do anything for it."

The boy just wouldn't quit. She was a bit intrigued when she heard his plea. With slit eyes, she smirked to herself of what exactly she could get out of him. He was willing to do anything to get something he wanted.

"Anything?" she said.

He nodded, his blue eyes filled with eagerness.

"Well, just do all your chores and mind your manners 'til I get the welfare check by next month. How about that?"

Once-ler lit up with delight. He would finally get a new coat. "I promise, Mom," he assured her with a smile. "And thank you so much!"

She looked at her son for a moment, a bit disgusted that he still looked like his Daddy. With a forced smile, she cupped his face and stroked his hair with phony affection. He was such a good boy. So willing to do anything to please her.

Once-ler kept his promise. Isabella gave him extra chores, running him ragged until he was sore and tired. Yet, he didn't give up. He kept counting the days until the next welfare check came. Once the day finally came, a very exhausted Once-ler saw his coat...on his brothers! He stared in shock.

"Mom!" he gasped. "That's...my coat!"

"Yes," said Isabella with a smug look. "And thank you for the idea, Oncie. Brett and Chet outgrew their coats so you can have their old ones."

He froze. He did all that work for a month for nothing, only for his mom to steal his idea and give his brothers new coats?! He felt angry for the first time after suppressing it for years. His Mom was being unfair: from excluding him from his brothers' birthday parties and making him work in the kitchen to cook food for their party to leaving him out at bedtime stories to completely ignoring his own existence or mocking him that he was a disappointment or worthless. The list could go on and on. The bottled-up anger inside him exploded out of him.

"But that's not fair!" he yelled, his cheeks turning red. "You said you would give me money so I could get a new coat!"

"Oncie, don't shout," she scolded. "Be thankful for what you got. There are children who don't have nice things like us."

"But you promised, Mom! You said if I did all my chores..."

"ONCIE, ENOUGH!" she shrieked.

"NO!" he shouted, his face burning with anger. "YOU BROKE YOUR PROMISE, MOM! I ASKED FOR THAT COAT FIRST! I WORKED ALL MONTH AND WAS GOOD LIKE YOU TOLD ME TO BE! I NEVER ASK FOR ANYTHING AND IT'S NOT FAIR!"

She had enough of this. Isabella slapped him across the face; he cried out in pain. It sounded like a leather strap and left a huge red handprint. The twins flinched a bit at the sound. They knew not to stay on Momma's bad side. Aunt Grizelda just smiled meanly; the boy had a mouth. He talked back and needed to be taught a lesson. Uncle Ubb just shook his head.

Once-ler didn't cry, though his eyes were brimming with tears. He pushed them back and rubbed his sore cheek, frowning. He swallowed, feeling his heart pounding angrily inside his chest. He tried to calm himself. He was used to being physically punished: slaps, belts, even his own two brothers beat him up. Physical pain was easy to get over, it was the emotional pain that was a little difficult. His feelings being stomped on, rejected, told he was worthless or what he did was not normal or unmanly like crying...he had to wall off his hurt feelings, bury it deep if he had to. He just had to keep telling himself just ignore it. Just let it roll off like water on a duck's back. Yet how can one treat it like it was nothing when those hurtful words came from his family, the very people who were supposed to love and care for him? All he wanted was for someone to tell him he mattered...the only one who did that was his Daddy. But he was dead.

"You are a very ungrateful child, Oncie," Isabella said, calming down. "Now if you're not happy with your clothes, then you can either accept what you have or make them yourself."

Once-ler was disappointed. But when he heard this, he forgot his anger. He liked this idea. He would make his own clothes, scarves and mittens...a blanket for himself! He'd never have to wear holey hand-me-downs again. That's right! If he couldn't get new clothes, then he could make them!

"Really?" he said.

"What?" Isabella said confused.

"I can make my own clothes?"

Isabella was shocked. For a moment there, she thought the boy would quit. Why was it he didn't?

"You want to make your own clothes?" Isabella said with a raised eyebrow.

The twins were sniggering, calling him a girl or queer. He didn't even acknowledge their laughter this time. He was lost in his thoughts about the idea his Mom told him.

"Yea," he said smiling.

Isabella scoffed, unable to believe her son was considering this. He was always a weird, abnormal boy anyway. His Daddy was sensitive like Oncie, but not like this.

"Be my guest, Oncie," said Isabella.

"And while you're at it, make yourself a little skirt," suggested Aunt Grizelda meanly.

The laughter exploded from his family, ringing in his ears. Once-ler was humiliated, but swallowed and walled up another hurt feeling and walked away. He was just about to go to the kitchen pantry to eat some marshmallows when he looked towards the living room where his Mom had abandoned the knitting book, yarn and needles. He picked them up and dashed into the pantry. With a bag of marshmallows next to him, he opened to the page for a simple knitting pattern. It was hard at first, but he remembered when Daddy told him that if he practiced, he would get better every day. And he did. Besides, Momma wouldn't notice the yarn and needles were gone since she didn't seem interested. He really liked it. He made himself a new scarf and mittens and he was much warmer. He felt happier. He liked making things.

Though he found a new interest, still he hated his clothes: they were always falling off of him. He would like to have clothes that actually fit him for once. There had to be more than knitting. He thought about how Brett and Chet's clothes were full of holes. Maybe he could fix them so they wouldn't have to get rid of them. But he thought about patches..

_Nah, not a good idea._ he thought to himself. _I already get made fun of enough at school for being a hobo._

More ideas came up in his head of what possibilities there were. He could make stuff for Brett and Chet so they could have something for the winter. Christmas was coming soon. It'd be a wonderful present for them. Maybe he could make something special for Momma and his aunt and uncle. Yet, he didn't know how to sew. God forbid that Momma found out he had taken up such a hobby. He was sure to get teased for it. He knew there was a home economics class at school. But it was full of girls...and he didn't want to get ridiculed. Maybe he should talk to the teacher there...

* * *

Ms. Elizabeth 'Betsy' Wimble was the middle school home economics teacher. She had red hair, coke glasses, soft puppy dog eyes and a pleasant face with a little plumpness. She was the sweetest teacher of all. Very gentle and approachable. A woman of new-fangled ideas.

She remembered Once-ler: a skinny, shy boy in an oversized grey fedora hiding his shaggy mop of black hair that hung in his blue eyes. He was a loner and teased for his big clothes, broken shoes or just being smart. Yet there was that enthusiasm and eagerness to learn...optimism. She would see him sitting in the library or at study hall absorbed in his books. She had heard the other teachers that Once-ler was a smart boy. That he would do great things. That he had a bright future.

Often he'd look in the window at the class knitting, sewing and baking. Then as soon as Ms. Wimble saw him, he took off running, embarrassed. The girls would giggle and whisper as they saw the pathetic 12-year-old boy running away. Ms. Wimble would give a small smile. She had a feeling he wanted to be a part of the class, but was just too shy to come.

It happened on a Friday afternoon when school was over. Ms. Wimble was looking through everyone's homework when she heard a small knock on the door. She opened the door and saw the shy boy who looked in the window; his round cheeks were flushed, trembling. The poor thing was scared as a lost fawn.

"Why hello there, Mr. Once-ler," said Ms. Wimble smiling. "What are you doing here after school?"

Once-ler could barely look up at the home ec teacher. He hugged his books tightly, very embarrassed. He was shy around girls, but Ms. Wimble seemed like a nice teacher. He tried to tell her what he wanted, but it came out in an inaudible murmur.

"Sorry?" she said very confused.

"M-m-Ms. Wimble...w-would you teach me how to sew?" he said with a quaver in his voice.

The boy lowered his head, expecting her to laugh at him or say something mean. But to his surprise, the Home Ec teacher smiled gently.

"Is that why you've been looking in my window? Why don't you just come to class, sweetheart?"

"I can't," he said, his eyes filled with fear.

"Why not?"

"Everyone will laugh at me. It's all girls and everyone will think I'm unmanly."

Those words made Ms. Wimble feel sympathetic towards Once-ler. She looked at him with kind eyes.

"Oh sweetheart, there's nothing unmanly about it. Sewing is a good skill to learn."

"But what men sew?"

"The soldiers in the military do it. Those patches and tears on their uniforms. There aren't any women to do that for them...especially on the battlefield."

A shy smile curved in the boy's round face when he heard this from Ms. Wimble. He hugged his books tightly to his chest.

"So why do you wanna learn to sew?"

"I don't like my clothes. They're too big."

Ms. Wimble figured that was why. Poor thing! He was so skinny and they barely hung on his frame. The kids would pull his pants down as a practical joke. And they had holes, which she guessed it was probably just from rough play with those rowdy, simpleminded twin brothers of his.

"I can teach you some hand stitching. I'd show you how to use the sewing machines, but I'm afraid they're broken. I have to have them fixed, which could take a while."

Once-ler really wanted to learn to sew. Yet hearing that the machines were broken...he wanted to know how they worked. After all those hours spent reading books on mechanical engineering, he was up for any kind of challenge. All those times in study hall, in the library, reading every book he could get his hands on. He liked anything that was about engineering. His mind bubbled with ideas for inventions.

"I'll try to fix them...if you want," he said. "If I do that, could you teach me to use the machines?"

Another smile from the Home Ec teacher. He was a sweet boy. "Y'got yourself a deal, Mr. Once-ler."

The boy lit up with a wide smile, his blue eyes sparkled like sapphires. He got right to work fixing the sewing machines. His mind buzzed as his eyes darted towards every part and gears in the machine. Once-ler promised to bring in some tools to fix them tomorrow. Ms. Wimble showed him different stitches to fix some of the holes without using patches and to hem his baggy clothes so that they would fit him better. Once-ler was ever glad that he learned this skill. He could finally make his hand-me-downs fit him better.

The next day, he brought his tools to fix the sewing machines and fixed one after an hour. Ms. Wimble showed him how to use the sewing machine and he was delighted.

"What other special skills can you do besides fixing things?" asked Ms. Wimble curiously.

"I..." Once-ler stammered, his cheeks burning. "I like to knit."

"That's wonderful. Knitting's just as good as sewing. What else?"

"I can cook...and clean."

Another smile from Ms. Wimble. Once-ler's cheeks were red as cherries. She knew a few sensitive boys who liked to do things like that...but they were too embarrassed to come to class.

"You don't think it's...unmanly?" he asked.

"No. There's nothing unmanly about what your talents are. If you like doing what you're doing, then you should just enjoy it. Just because people think it is doesn't mean it's always true. My Daddy liked to knit and cook; plus my Momma appreciated that she could have a break from being a housewife."

Once-ler smiled. He decided to tell himself this everyday. _Nothing unmanly about knitting. No sir.  
_

Over the weekend, Once-ler gathered up some of the hand-me-down clothes from his brothers. He also found a pink dress his Momma was throwing away. It had puffed sleeves, small polka dots and purple flowers on the bodice with red frills and a velvet sash. Seemed like a waste to throw away.

He hid these in his bag and went to meet with Ms. Wimble to learn how to make his own clothes.

"What do you want to make, Once-ler?" Ms. Wimble asked.

He showed her the pink dress, blushing.

"Momma was throwing this away," he said. "I'd like to make it an apron...for her. Y'know a present for Christmas."

Ms. Wimble smiled. "That's a wonderful idea, Once-ler. I always say 'waste not, want not.'" She paused to think. "I might have a simple pattern you could use to make it. It shouldn't be too hard."

She went in the supply closet for some pins, sewing needles, pink thread, scissors, a pincushion, and of course the apron patterns. She handed the pattern to Once-ler and he looked it over. He cut up the dress and the pattern paper he chose, getting to work right away. The sewing machine hummed and whirred as he pressed the petal with his foot, looking very intense as he created. Many hours later, he had finished and showed Ms. Wimble his apron. She smiled.

"You really should come to class, Once-ler," she said. "You'd be a better teacher than me."

"Nah. I like this better. It's quiet and I can concentrate."

"Alright then. If you insist."

Once-ler gathered up his belongings and was about to leave, thanking her for allowing her to come after school and let him work.

"One of my stoves is broken," she said. "Y'think you can fix it?"

Once-ler just smiled, full of determined enthusiasm. He knew he could. He grabbed up his tools and got to work.

* * *

Christmas time came. White snow had freshly fallen on the ground at the family farm. Once-ler wrapped all his presents, smiling to himself. He made Brett and Chet matching scarves and mittens. Aunt Grizelda a knitted hat. Uncle Ubb a pair of socks. And for his Momma, a special apron for her. He didn't really get a lot of presents...mostly used toys from his brothers. Still he told himself it was better than nothing.

He handed everyone their gifts with a big smile, wishing everyone a Merry Christmas. They opened their gifts, staring dumbfounded and confused. He gave Momma his present last.

"This is for you, Momma," he said with a big smile.

She opened her present and beheld the pink apron that Once-ler had made for her. He looked bashful and proud at the same time. Momma's face dropped when she beheld the pink fabric. Instead of an overjoyed expression, it was met with a bitter glare.

"Oncie," she said in a tight voice. "Where did you get this?"

"I made it, Momma," he said.

Raised eyebrows. "Made it?"

"Yea, Momma. I'm taking a home ec class at school. I'm learning how to sew."

"Sew?" said Aunt Grizelda. "What else did you learn: knitting and crocheting?"

"Knitting, yes. But I taught myself..."

"Well, what do you know, Bells? Your Oncie is a queer," said Aunt Grizelda meanly.

Once-ler just sat there in silence. There was stupid laughter from Brett and Chet, pointing.

"Queer! BURN!" guffawed Brett.

"What is WRONG with you, Oncie?!" said Isabella, incredulous and offended. "Are you queer?"

"What?! No, Momma," he exclaimed, shaking his head. "I swear. I just saw this pink dress you were throwing away and I wanted to make something special to surprise you..."

You went through my trash?! HOW DARE YOU!" she shrieked. "There was a reason I threw away that dress! I wore when I went on my first date with your Daddy!"

Once-ler's face blanched in horror. Adrenaline was pumped throughout his body, making him shaking all over, sweat dripped from his forehead and his heart pounded in his chest.

"You really are a stupid shit, Oncie! I was trying to purge those memories of that sonofabitch and you just slap me in the face with this atrocious gift!"

"I'm sorry, Momma," he fumbled. "I had no idea. I didn't mean to..."

"Just go get breakfast ready...and get this beastly thing out of my sight!" she snapped, shoving the box back into Once-ler's hands.

Crestfallen, Once-ler went into the kitchen, holding the beautiful apron he had made that was blatantly rejected. How was he supposed to know? All he saw was something that was cast off and decided to make a use of it. And he didn't hear a word of 'thank you' from anyone for the gifts he had made. He heard more laughing, knee slapping, heads thrown back in the living room about him knitting and sewing...Once-ler numbed himself, walling up the hurt again;

_Just pretend it doesn't bother you. That it doesn't matter. Nothing unmanly about knitting or sewing. No sir._

He decided he wasn't going to throw this creation he made. He would use it. Screw it if his Momma didn't like it. He put it on and began to cook Christmas breakfast for his family. They teased him a bit, but he blocked it out. After cleaning up after Christmas breakfast and dinner, he took off the pink apron and hung it up in his little corner of the pantry.

* * *

When school started up again, he went back to meet with Ms. Wimble to use the sewing machines.

"How'd it go, Once-ler?" said Ms. Wimble. "Did everyone like their gifts?"

Once-ler felt a pang in his heart; he was hurt. He shook his head sadly. Ms. Wimble's face fell a bit when she looked at the young man. He tried to keep his hurt feelings inside and bury them; it was like a pressure cooker: it could only keep back so much force until it exploded. Every suppressed feeling came pouring out of him like an overflowing dam that couldn't hold back anymore. He lowered his head to hide his face; he didn't want his teacher to see him like this.

_Don't cry. You're a man. It's unmanly._

Ms. Wimble saw the boy was shaking, hearing what sounded like sniffling and whimpering underneath that oversized fedora that hid his face.

"What? What's wrong, Once-ler? What happened?" she asked, sitting next to him.

He wrung his hands until there were white knuckles. He looked up at Ms. Wimble; his screwed-up face was flushed. His eyes were like dewy forget-me-nots and his round, speckled cheeks were streaming with tears. Snot ran from his nose. He couldn't hold back anymore and began sobbing loudly. He was too upset and embarrassed that he had to cry in front of all people. Normally he would find a quiet place like the pantry or into his pillow to let go of his emotions.

Ms. Wimble was struck with immediate sadness as she saw this sweet boy crying. What went on in that house?

"Momma didn't like my gift," he said, his voice quivered and he wiped his eyes. "She said I'm such a screw-up. I don't know what I did wrong."

He continued to sob, gasping for breaths. His chest felt tight. His walled off hurt feelings came pouring out like an overflowing dam. Ms. Wimble looked at the crying boy. She wanted to take this sweet boy home with her. Hug him and hold him until all the hurt was gone. Let him cry into her shoulder until he felt better.

"Nobody loves me, Ms. Wimble. The only person who ever loved me was my Daddy...and he's dead. Momma said I'm nothing...that I'm worthless..."

"That's not true, Once-ler," she said, putting a hand on his thin shoulder, feeling him shudder with each sob. "You're not worthless. You're not nothing. If you were any of those things, I would have broken sewing machines and stove."

She paused to look into that hurt boy's eyes. Once-ler listened as he heard those words. She said it like a fact.

"You're a sweet, smart boy, Once-ler. And you are going to do great things," she continued. "I know you are. Whatever dreams you have, you should make them come true."

Once-ler looked at his teacher. He felt better hearing those words. It was just like what his Daddy said to him.

"I want you to build your confidence, Mr. Once-ler," she said to him. "First thing every morning, I want you to look in the mirror and say this: I have confidence in myself. I will not believe others that tell me I can't.'"

"O-OK," he said, sniffling, wiping the mingle of snot and tears with his sleeve. "Sorry for crying in front of you."

"There's nothing bad about crying, Once-ler," said Ms. Wimble. "You're allowed to have feelings like that. And if you need to cry, you're more than welcome to do so here."

Once-ler smiled painfully, his lip quivering. He was happy he had a friend.

"What plans do you have for the future, Once-ler?"

"Make inventions and sell them," he said with a shrug.

"Well that's great. You'll make a lot of money. But if you want to be in the business world, you need to be confident in yourself. You've always got your head down, hiding under your hat all mopey. C'mere you big silly. Let's go look at yourself."

She took the boy towards a mirror, tilting his hat back so his face could be seen better. His eyes were still wet.

"Go on, Once-ler, look at yourself," she encouraged.

Once-ler was so scared. He had been teased about his appearance for so long that he couldn't. Slowly he raised his eyes up and looked: seeing a morose boy with puffy wet eyes.

"Now see? That's a very handsome young man. I mean look your eyes," she said, cupping his chin. "They're beautiful."

He felt his self-esteem start to rise and a small smile curved into his round face as he was told this. Ms. Wimble wiped away a teardrop with her thumb.

"And your hair. It's lovely hair," he told him, sweeping his shaggy bangs off to the side. "Your nose, your lips...and your cheeks. These are all good qualities you have. I'm surprised the girls aren't swooning over you."

Once-ler smiled bashfully, blush bloomed. Never in his life had anyone told him these things. Except his Daddy. He wanted to cry again, but he wasn't sure he had the stamina to do so. He felt his heart melt and felt better about himself.

"Feel better now?" she said.

He nodded.

"And that's what I want you to do every time you wake up in the morning or you feel bad. Just look at yourself and see all the good qualities you have. You're a sweet, sensitive handsome young man. And you keep tell yourself that."

Another nod from him, promising her he would. Ms. Wimble smiled.

"I got somethin' for you," she said.

She went over to the supply closet and came out with something under her arm, what looked like a bolt of blue fabric. She smiled and handed it to Once-ler. He held it and saw the fabric had yellow bunnies on them.

"I saw this in the store over the holiday break and it made me think of you," she said. "I dunno if you like bunnies, but just seeing them put a smile on my face. I figured you'd want to make yourself something next time you came back from the break."

Once-ler already was smiling and he touched the fabric. His face lit up with joy.

"Thank you, Ms. Wimble," he said. "This is the best Christmas present I've ever gotten."

Ms. Wimble smiled. "You're welcome. Feel free to go in the supply closet and pick out a pattern you want to make. I'm gonna correct some papers while you get to work."

The young man's sadness had dissipated from the blue Christmas he had and he was excited to get to work. He looked at different patterns and picked out one. With a mingle of scissors, needles, thread, measuring tape, the whirr of the sewing machine. When it got late, Ms. Wimble allowed him to leave his stuff in the supply closet where it could be safe. She assured him that no one would be allowed to touch it.

After several days of diligently working on his newest creation, he completed his next piece and by far his best and favorite of all: blue pajamas printed with yellow bunnies. He made a pocket on the breast. Sewed some buttons on them. He couldn't wait to wear them when he got home.


End file.
